Avoidance
by TCHeart
Summary: John thinking over his encounter with Moriarty and wanting his questions answered by Sherlock. Oneshot.


Avoidance 

Over and over again I ask myself, did I make the right choice? In some ways I doubt myself. Through all the pain and anguish that has came with this choice but in other ways, which overrule the negatives, it has all been worth it. To have that sense of freedom and excitement is what keeps me here. Here to live a life that no other person gets to live, day by day.

It hasn't been the same since that night at the pool and I would rather forget that night. That has to be one of the biggest reasons for my doubts. No one should ever have to experience such a thing. But through that experience came something I never expected myself capable of. I had gone to Afghanistan and survived being shot at but for some reason it didn't compare to that.

I sit here in Baker Street wondering, what if things had happened differently? If I never went for lunch that day with Mike, would I have met that amazing man that is Sherlock Holmes?

The man with an incredible mind; who can tell you your life story with nothing but a glance. The man who doesn't think like anyone else. The way his mind works never ceases to amaze me. However this is the same man that didn't have any proper friends. He seemed to have a way of pushing people away. Except for me. He accepted me and never went back on that. If I never met him, what would he be doing now? Would he still be alive? Did he pick the right pill on our first case together? If there was no one to save him like I did, he could be dead. Even if he did pick the right one, would Moriarty have killed him? There's nothing that psycho that is Moriarty can't seem to get away with.

Moriarty.

God knows if he's still alive. His body wasn't found after the explosion but his Westwood suit was. In burnt pieces. I will never have pity for that man. He doesn't deserve any kindness for what he's done. Him kidnapping me while on the way to Sarah's. Strapping me up in a bomb and forcing me to speak those words like I was a puppet. His 'pep' talks before hand, at the time I believed he was just a psycho but looking back, he was just an insanely smart psychopath. The way he talked about Sherlock, like he was a teenager with a crush but was talking to the related person just to show their jealously and hatred. Seeing Sherlock's face when I walked out would live with me forever. The face that was heartbroken to what he was witnessing. John Watson, his friend, betraying him, then that face deepened when I revealed the bomb. John Watson, his closest friend, was in the firing line for his doings. That face will scar me forever.

BOOM!

Sherlock fired the gun and the bomb exploded. Just as he pulled the trigger, I pulled him into the pool. My army instincts taking over in order to survive. After the fire had gone from above the pool, Sherlock and I emerged into a cloud of heavy smoke. I looked over to Sherlock, who was already beginning to choke from the smoke, and moved to him, trying my best to get him out. When I got to him, he'd fallen to his knees. He grabbed me into his weak arms; he was trembling. I pulled him up but it was no use, I collapsed onto my knees in the attempt.

We looked into each others eyes, saw the fear in them of death coming. We stayed like that until Sherlock pulled me towards him. I didn't fight back, I trusted that man and I will until the day I die. I thought he was going for a hug, until I felt his lips on mine. He was trembling as he kissed me, although his eyes were open, due to the water it looked like tears were coming from them. That was what he wanted in his last moments, comfort from me in the form of one last kiss. I was so sure of myself that I wasn't attracted to men, but in that moment I kissed him back. We were going through this together and it was the last thing that would happen until we passed. We passed out in each others arms.

That moment of waking up in hospital had to be one of the best moments in my life.

Knowing I was still alive and well. Filled with such happiness, I had began to cry worrying the nurses. Looking around the room I noticed all the flowers and gifts from people saying 'Get Better Soon', it was a private room courtesy of Lestrade, and the most important thing; Sherlock, asleep on a chair next to my bed. He had a few marks on his face, unlikely to scar, and a burn on his hand. I studied it until I heard his voice.

"John?"

His voice was filled with worry which he made no effort to hide from me. I did try to move to see him better but a surge of pain rushed through me halting any other attempts.

"I'm fine. As long as I don't move."

I tried to say it with some lightness to lighten the mood but Sherlock's face showed it hadn't worked. Or he's ignoring it. He got up and, carefully, touched my hand and arm. He studied them both with a disgusted look on his face. I looked down to see my skin covered in the special bandages used for severe burns. I realised then why he looked so disgusted. He wasn't angry at the doctors or nurses who had been helping me. All his anger and hatred was for one man. Moriarty. Not that I could blame him, I felt the same way, but not for what he did to me, for what he did to all those people he used to get at Sherlock and what he had done to him.

"Don't try to move, rest as much as you can. I don't want you in here longer than you have to be.'

"Sherlock, I couldn't have been here more than a night. That's nothing compared to some people I've had to deal with."

"John, you've been unconscious for a week."

'A week? How could I have been in unconscious for a week?'I had thought, I didn't think my condition was that bad. I could see Sherlock computing what I was thinking.

"You inhaled too much of the smoke, which began to shut down your system, as well as having the severe burns around your body. Just... just try and rest please? I need to make a few phone calls."

"Sherlock."

I had tried to get his attention as he was leaving the room. He looked tense then, I didn't know why. He continued to walk away, when I had asked:

"What happened after we came out the pool, what did it mean?"

He paused for a second but continued walking afterwards. Not turning to look at me. I could hear his footsteps until he'd left the corridor. The room felt somehow darker and colder when he left. That sense of rejection in the air. At least we were both safe and well, right?

Right? You would think so, but that was a month ago and it has never truly gone back to the way it used to be. Sherlock is highly awkward around me; more than usual and it seems to increase with everyday that passes by. We haven't had any cases so we're both stuck in the flat together, which increases the awkwardness. I want to know what's going on in his head.

"John? Are you okay? What are you thinking?"

I register slowly that Sherlock has been talking and staring at me the whole time, and he's looking worried. Well, he asked what was going on in my head, so I'm going to try asking him again. I haven't tried after that time in the hospital.

"I was just thinking about last month."

If I'm very vague, he'll get annoyed and ask more about it. It's working. I'm going to get straight to the point, then he'll have to answer me about it, as he engaged the conversation. I want to know if he feels the same way I do.

"Explain."

"That time when you kissed me at the pool. Did it mean anything?"

"It was just something in the spur of the moment John. Moving on..."

"No. Just tell me. Don't lie about it."

"Why can't we leave it there John?"

"Because it has been annoying me for a month and that is going to increase, like how awkward you have become around me. Why is that, Sherlock?"

He gets up, trying to make an escape, but I get him in a grip against the wall so he can't get away. He struggles, but soon realises that he can't win.

"Sherlock. Tell me."

"I have feelings about you, and I'm confused. I don't know what these feelings are, I've never experienced them before. Even when I experimented with sex and all that, I felt nothing like this. Whenever I see you come out the shower I want to kiss your chest. Whenever you drink your tea, I want to kiss those lips of yours. And when I thought we were both going to die at the pool, I wanted to die knowing that I had kissed you and giving into those feelings I had towards you. I didn't want to die regretting that I hadn't. I didn't think you would understand if I had told you earlier."

I let him go as soon as he finishes, I want to see his face. He looks relieved to have said it, but he still has that hint of worry in his eyes. I'm speechless. It explains everything, but for some reason, I'm still not satisfied. I grab his hand instead, and pull him down for a kiss. I want to see if that spontaneous kiss by the pool would feel the same now. It starts off slow, but builds when Sherlock gets over his initial reaction and joins in. He puts both his hands on my hips and pulls me in closer. I throw my arms around his neck, all I want is him closer to me as well.

"Thank you John. For understanding."

I answer him with another kiss which lasts until Sherlock's phone rings. He pulls away to answer it at the window.

"Lestrade... quick details...yes we'll come. On our way"

"New case?"

"Of course!"

He throws me my coat while putting his on then comes up to me and pulls me into a short, hard kiss. His face is lit up which makes his eyes sparkle with happiness.

"This is going to be truly fantastic!"

It really is.

I, John Watson, know the most incredible human in the world. His name? Sherlock Holmes. We live at 221B Baker Street, where we solve crimes as Sherlock is the world's only Consulting Detective. The man that has an incredible mind, who can tell you your life story with nothing but a glance. The man who doesn't think like anyone else and the way his mind works will never cease to amaze me. The man who cares for me a great deal although he doesn't know how to express his new feelings. The man I get to express my feelings for by kissing him everyday from now on.

My life is truly fantastic.

xxx


End file.
